


Pistol Packin' Mama

by motherofangst



Category: Fallout 4, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/M, fallout/rogue one, how do tags work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 14:00:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12014259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherofangst/pseuds/motherofangst
Summary: Desdemona shook her head, “No. This is a resource for information. We have received word of a scientist who is a very important piece to the Institute puzzle. He, allegedly, holds an important position in the Institute -- and is in charge of finding advancements in weapons technologies. His name isGalen Erso.”“I thought you said I would be looking for a girl.”“You are -- she’s his daughter.”





	Pistol Packin' Mama

**Author's Note:**

> This is definitely a work in progress. I wanted to get my first chapter out there to see how it's received, and even see if responses to it could possibly prompt the ideas that I already have a vague inkling to in my head. 
> 
> I, obviously, love me some rebelcaptain in any universe. And I have a terrible obsession with Fallout and it's lore. So, why not both?
> 
> Please, definitely let me know what you think. Unbeta'd, so please feel free to make me aware of any mistakes and I will correct them as quickly as I can.

Cassian Jeron Andor came from a settlement to the southeast of the Commonwealth ; having been born and raised in Quincy before the Gunners overtook it, slaughtered most involved, and caused the fall of the _once-great_ Minutemen. Of course, Cassian got out years before this event, but, it caused him a great deal of distress as there were still friends -- _and family_ \-- attached to Quincy, and he believes that none of them made it out.

The details in of this are not overly important -- albeit, it deserves noting simply to attest to the fact that everyone has dead people. Everyone has lost something, more so _now_ than in the old days; before the Great War. Having loss weigh on your heart like a disease does not make you special, it makes you human. The pain, the anger -- it reminds you that you are alive. Which, in retrospect, perhaps that _is_ special.

Whenever Cassian left Quincy quite a few years ago, it was merely to uproot himself -- to get outside of the comfort zone of Quincy in order to see more of the Commonwealth. To learn what it was like to depend on himself ; perhaps, he should’ve gone back. Thoughts like these dwell only in the darkest of nights, when he does not have the energy to stave them off -- as he understands that just his presence might not have been enough to hold the Gunners off when a squad of the Minutemen could not. He was good with a gun, _no --_ excellent. But one man with a gun is not always sufficient enough.

How he came across the Railroad was different all in itself. It was not a grand story of a drastic change of heart, nor was it a dramatic tale of a life changing event involving a synth or a Railroad agent. He had been out of Quincy for three months at this point, and in his travels to Goodneighbor, he ran across a man who called himself High Rise near the Boston Commons. It was a stupid accident, but it was life changing. Again, a small item in a the grand view of it all that, looking back upon it, was one of his best decisions.

Up to this point, he didn’t know too much about synths. He knew they came from the monster under the bed called _The Institute,_ and he knew that most people in the Commonwealth generally held them in low regard. To his knowledge, he had never met a synth himself. But, as the Institute began to make more and more improvements, Cassian was not blind to their influence on the Commonwealth as a whole -- and feared that they might grow much too power hungry in their road to _improving_ the Commonwealth. He did not fear synths, but he feared the potential of the Institute. And when Cassian feared something, he wanted to do something about it.

And High Rise spoke highly of an organization that could help him do that, if _Cassian_ helped them. **The Railroad.**

He had always had an open mind when it came to new ideas presented to him, his mind only closed its doors when he had already made a decision about what he believed. While learning about synths, _more specifically,_ the third generation synths -- he came to understand that there was a line drawn by many citizens of the Commonwealth where there did not need to be one. That synths merely operated as humans with a different means of conception.

Since then, Cassian has been operating under the codename _The Fulcrum,_ and has assumed a position as one of the Railroad’s heavies, as well as one of their top intel agents -- typically accompanying Glory on missions in the field, along with a Generation 2 synth that he reprogrammed in his downtime; one that he had taken to merely affectionately calling _K2._

Today in specific, the Railroad was bustling with new information. And that usually meant a new mission -- which _meant,_ for him, that he couldn’t grow too comfortable with his relaxation time when he looked up to see Deacon relaying information to Desdemona. It just so happened that glanced to them to assess the body language of their leader to see how the information was received, Desdemona was beaconing him over. So, he was standing and making his way over.

Desdemona wasted no time in getting straight to the point. That was no matter to him, though, as he preferred to not beat around the bush for other’s comfort. “Deacon has brought intel that is of great interest to us. You are going to be looking for a girl.”

“Is this a package?” Cassian asks.

Desdemona shook her head, “No. This is a resource for information. We have received word of a scientist who is a very important piece to the Institute puzzle. He, allegedly, holds an important position in the Institute -- and is in charge of finding advancements in weapons technologies. His name is _Galen Erso._ ”

“I thought you said I would be looking for a girl.”

“You are -- she’s his daughter.”

 

* * *

 

Ever since Jyn Erso was young, she considered herself an orphan of the Commonwealth -- this was not uncommon, and she was not special. _A common thief._ She understood, she was not a good person. Albeit, even with her track record, she still separated herself from the likes of _monsters_ like Raiders, or the Gunners.

Truth be told, she was not completely certain that both parents were dead -- but they were dead to her. Her mother, Lyra Erso, perished when she was very young in an attempt to escape Institute Heavies ( before Coursers were common place instead ) who was sent to take her father; Lyra was meant to escape with Jyn, but instead stood her ground with a stubborn attitude that Jyn inherited.

Jyn was raised in Abernathy Farms until her parents were taken from her -- moved from there to Far Harbor by an old family “friend” named Saw Gerrera. Saw was not made for parenting, and everyone knew it  -- he was a harsh man who meant well, but did not have the aptitude to raise a child. By the age of sixteen, she was left alone with nothing but a laser pistol and her wits. She learned very quickly how cruel the Commonwealth could be -- leaving Far Harbor behind her -- and adapted very quickly to be just as cruel.

Albeit, today she was not Jyn Erso. Today, Kestrel Dawn found herself in the middle of Diamond City with hopes of seeing what she could snatch out from their overbearing Mayor’s nose. Or -- she would’ve if things hadn’t gone terribly wrong. In hindsight, she wanted to blame the mouthy reporter ( Piper, she thinks? ) for pointing out the fact that, last she had seen her, she had introduced herself as Tanith Pontha. _To be fair,_ Jyn hadn’t met Piper inside of the Diamond City limits last time, as she was very careful to keep her alias in order, and had not been aware that Piper was an actual resident of the big city. One little slip from Piper while Jyn was attempting to talk to the Mayor’s secretary, and she was in too deep to try and talk her way out of Diamond City security disarming her and manhandling her into the jail cell on the other end of the city.

At this point, she was attempting to formulate different ways to escape -- from sweet talking the guards, to finding something inside of her cell to be used as a weapon. But, her third run through of a plan in her head came to an abrupt halt when there was a commotion at the entrance -- standing suddenly as she watched a handful of men rush the Security Office and take down the officers, brows twisting inwards as she tried to assess if they were a threat to her or not.

It was _always_ safer to assume that they were a threat.

So, when one of the men tore the doors of the cell open, she was instantly lashing out -- grabbing a discarded piece of the bar from the jail cell and managing to take two of the men out quickly; the success in her chest swelled too quickly, as there was a blunt force from behind that caused her knees to buckle and gravity come up far too quickly. It took her to the ground -- the bar causing an obnoxious noise as it clattered to the cement -- rolling over with a grunt. Her vision tugged black at the edges, no matter how much she tried to power through and fight it. And, through it all, she saw the fuzzy image of what she knew to be a generation 2 synth. It’s voice filtering into her senses ---

“Congratulations. You are being rescued. Please, do not resist.”

**Author's Note:**

> Bother on me at motherofangst on tumblr, if you like.


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